Bleeding Out
by MortalShadowhunter
Summary: "Life is like a flame, I realize early in life. It is either struck with careful precision, or is started by a careless spark. Nonetheless, you live out your life for as long as you can until you fizzle out and burn in a heap of hopeless ashes." Jem learns that life is not only about embracing death, but also about teaching others to respect life.


**Author's Note: Hey guys! This is a metaphorical fanfiction with lots of analogies. So, I really don't know how this turned out...You tell me. I've never done a songfic before, so I said, "Why not?" It's a different style than how I normally write as well, so tell me how it goes. I do admit it is sort of slow, but I wanted it to be more insightful than my other fics so it depends on you if you like it or not. I'm bleeding out my life for Jem and The Infernal Devices, but mainly Jem. Well, here goes nothing. *Nothing happens. I frown* Ahem, here goes something! AU.**

**If you like this story, check out my other one Demons.**

**Song: Bleeding Out by Imagine Dragons**

**~~Jem~~**

I'm bleeding out  
So if the last thing that I do  
Is bring you down  
I'll bleed out for you

Life is like a flame, I realize early in life. It is either struck with careful precision, or is started by a careless spark. Nonetheless, you live out your life for as long as you can until you fizzle out and burn in a heap of hopeless ashes. I have always been accepting of my short lifespan. As ridiculous as it may appear in other's minds, I think of myself as a candle; not really ever glowing bright, but glowing steadily until I finally run out of wick. When I first meet Will, he is like no other I have ever seen. I don't tell him yet, but he is a wildfire; dangerous, quick to get attention, and beautiful all the same.

"Why are you playing your violin?" He asks me one day after I help him train. I smile at him.

"It makes me happy." I answer. He gives me a look like he's never heard of the word happy before.

"Why do you want to be happy?"

I shrug. "So I don't feel like my life has been utterly wasted."

He gives me a new look, like he understands, but he doesn't at all. I smile again anyway.

**~~ooo~~**

So I bare my skin  
And I count my sins  
And I close my eyes  
And I take it in  
I'm bleeding out  
I'm bleeding out for you, for you.

Will is not only a wildfire, but a broken mirror, I find out. He is harsh on himself. When he looks at his reflection, he doesn't know who he sees. I know what he is thinking, though. I try not to cut myself on the broken shards of misery, hate, and guilt when I fish him out of his moods, but I can't help it when the shards are too jagged. He only sees a little boy who is sad and lonely and broken.

"It is my fault. Everything." He whispers when he finally stops crying, his enormous blue eyes red and deep. I want to tell him that he is more than what he tells himself he is. I want to tell him that he makes mistakes and that's okay. I want to tell him that he is a fallen angel that needs only to stretch his wings and fly.

"We have training tomorrow." I say instead. I hate myself.

**~~ooo~~**

When the day has come  
That I've lost my way around  
And the seasons stop and hide beneath the ground  
When the sky turns gray  
And everything is screaming  
I will reach inside  
Just to find my heart is beating

It's the first time Will sees me sick and all he can focus on is the red. There is red on my shirt. There is red on my bed sheets. There is red light on the backs of my eyelids when the nightmares plague me in my sleep. There is red on my mouth. There is red hate that hangs through the air. When I guide his fingers to the special rune over my heart, I try to tell him that he is the reason I am still alive. He is the world, now and I am buried in the deep depths of his sands. He needs me and the only way I can let him figure that out is if I let him know that I need him too. He cringes when he feels my heartbeat stutters.

"Why are you sick?" Will asks, his eyes an ocean of fear.

"Because I was poisoned."

"Why were you poisoned?"

"I was not skilled enough to kill a demon. I let my parents die."

"Do you think about them sometimes?"

I pause and I don't say anything for a long time. "Can you hand me my violin?"

**~~ooo~~**

Oh, you tell me to hold on  
Oh, you tell me to hold on  
But innocence is gone  
And what was right is wrong

Death is a funny thing. People always say that you never feel more alive until it's staring you in the face. Lies. I live in Death. I bathe in Death. I sleep with Death moments away from grabbing a silver chain and tangling it around my neck until I can't breath and the life from me drains slowly but surely. Will is like that silver chain. My love for him will kill me in the end but I don't mind that. The silver chain is lovely anyway. I can tell when he is worried when he doesn't speak for a while and he just stares.

He turns to me. "Can you promise me one thing?"

"No, but I can try."

"Will you hold on for me?"

Looking at him softly, I sigh. "You are the only reason I hold on."

**~~ooo~~**

'Cause I'm bleeding out  
So if the last thing that I do  
Is to bring you down  
I'll bleed out for you

Demons really aren't my favorite creatures. The ichor that bleeds from them is like their sign of failure. The way they disappear after you kill them shows cowardice. The accessorized teeth, stingers, and claws are just their way of telling you that they are dangerous, when really, they are a sign that they couldn't protect themselves without such possessions. I'm only a little surprised when Will jumps in front of a demon for me, his eyes blazing and blade slashing. In that moment, he reminds me of a guard dog; furious and loyal to the end. Only, for him, it isn't the end. When I kneel next to him and I look at the smear of red on his shoulder, I can only think of comforting him.

"You are going to be okay." I say.

"It hurts." He grits his teeth. There is pain in his eyes.

"I know." I answer softly, pushing his hair from his face. "Thank you."

He waits a minute before he says, "You're welcome."

**~~ooo~~**

So I bare my skin  
And I count my sins  
And I close my eyes  
And I take it in  
And I'm bleeding out  
I'm bleeding out for you

He makes me laugh. It is strange how someone already practically dead can be merry about such mortal pleasures. He lies on his back when he recites his poetry, gazing up at the dark sky. Laughter is strange on my tongue, but I welcome it because it makes me happy. My violin makes me happy. Will's bad poems make me happy. It is important that his poetry stays bad. When we finally do go back inside, he looks at me and he smiles. It looks out of place on his face, but that's okay because then he looks like a mended quilt; once torn but pieced back together in the most peculiar of ways. Still, it is comforting.

"It feels good to laugh." I tell him when we reach the hallway.

He stops walking and he gives me a puzzled look. "I didn't think you liked poetry."

"No, I don't." I admit, but I smile. "It amuses me, though, that you can make something so simple, so awful."

**~~ooo~~**

When the hour is nigh  
And hopelessness is sinking in  
And the wolves all cry  
To fill the night with hollering

I don't tell him that I'm getting worse, that I have to take more of the drug now to just get me going through the day. It is as if he can sense it, though. He is withdrawn and silent. Even his crude remarks around others have quieted and hushed. I think he is like a dam because when I finally crumple during training and there is pain everywhere, he caves in on himself. He himself is in pain. I have caused him that pain because now, he is breaking down and his emotions are tumbling over cracked and parched stone like hot water. It is because he has learned to love that he feels this pain. I want to help him.

"Will, I am alright for now." I say between coughs.

"You're lying." He accuses, bringing his knees to his chest.

"Will, you have to accept that I am-"

"Don't talk about dying." He mutters, his eyes dark. "I am too familiar with it already."

**~~ooo~~**

When your eyes are red  
And emptiness is all you know  
With the darkness fed  
I will be your scarecrow

Will no longer looks so innocent. He is no longer small, thin, and lanky as he was when he was a child. He is a corkscrew as well, I figure out when he takes comfort to the bottle, unleashing his miseries to the world. He looks older than sixteen, but I don't tell him and I just find him and lead him back home. He doesn't struggle and he follows me without a fight. Perhaps this is why I am scared. He no longer fights. He no longer snaps. He is indecisive and confused and afraid.

"Why did you go to the den tonight?" I ask, my hand around his wrist.

He shrugs. "I don't know."

I shake my head. "That's not a good answer. Why did you go to the den tonight?"

"I'm not sure-"

"Will."

He sighs. "Because I wanted to be happy."

**~~ooo~~**

You tell me to hold on  
Oh you tell me to hold on  
But innocence is gone  
And what was right is wrong

The first time I tell him that the drug no longer works, he is angry. He is violent like a feral cat. I like cats but Will is sharp clawed. He doesn't mean to be so angry because there is guilt in his eyes the next day when he sees the red and blue marks on my wrists where he holds tightly and bites angrily with his words.

We don't say anything.

**~~ooo~~**

'Cause I'm bleeding out  
So if the last thing that I do  
Is to bring you down  
I'll bleed out for you

When I realize how sad he is, I don't cry, I don't speak, I don't do anything.

**~~ooo~~  
**  
So I bare my skin  
And I count my sins  
And I close my eyes  
And I take it in  
And I'm bleeding out  
I'm bleeding out for you, for you.

I

**~~ooo~~**

I'm bleeding out for you  
I'm bleeding out for you  
I'm bleeding out for you  
I'm bleeding out for you

Am

**~~ooo~~**

'Cause I'm bleeding out  
So if the last thing that I do  
Is to bring you down  
I'll bleed out for you

Breaking

**~~ooo~~  
**  
So I bare my skin  
And I count my sins  
And I close my eyes  
And I take it in

Inside.

**~~ooo~~  
**  
And I'm bleeding out

There is no pain anymore. It hasn't hurt for a long time. I guess it is better this way. Will is often at my bedside, coaxing me to take glass after glass of the drug. He is just like me, I realize. Not only is he a feral cat, a corkscrew, a dam, a mended quilt, a guard dog, a silver chain, the makings of my universe, a broken mirror, and a wildfire, but a boy who can love. He is still an angry flame, but silenced under a jar of worry and partial acceptance. It seems he has been blessed with clarity.

"Will?" I reach over, taking his hand.

"Jem?" He whispers. There is grief in his voice.

"Thank you."

"What for?"

"For being a protector, a meaning, and a friend." I cough once, but there is no blood. "You are a good person."

We don't say anything because we know what the other is thinking. Will, I realize, is my purpose in life. Will, I remember, is the one who made me laugh. Will, I forget, is sad inside, but he looks like he can bear it. And when Death finally comes with his silver chain, I want to tell Will that I love him, but I can't.

My candle has already burned out

**~~ooo~~  
**  
I'm bleeding out for you, for you.


End file.
